Of Dinner Parties
by Marshal Davout
Summary: After the Engines take over, some celebration is to be done, but celebration is never easy, nor is it very enjoyable. Note: I write Gordon fics so often because I feel like the writers only have one plot for him (flanderized ego leads to humiliating crash). I always thought he deserves a multi-dimensional personality
1. Chapter 1

It was quite the occasion. Investor confidence in the NWR continued rising, and the stock's record climb intensified. The Wild Nor' Wester had just completed its first week of running since being reinstated, without so much of a blip on its performance. Construction projects continued at full pace, and the new airport looked set to open by New Year's. But it wasn't all good. The Hatts, a part of the NWR family since the start, had just been booted for good - Sir Stephen's death and Roger Hatt's conviction saw to that.

At the heart of it was one man - or rather, one engine. Gordon, the self-proclaimed best engine of the railway, the elected leader of the Engines' Union since its founding, and of course Nigel Gresley's A0 prototype. After seeing the railway sink from Roger Hatt's incompetence, the enterprising Engine cooperated with statesmen, shareholders, and all of Sodor's engines to get Hatt removed and himself appointed in his place. Now, with Hatt sentenced to a 10-year jail term, the board officially hired Gordon in his place, holding a small ceremony in London. Proud as he was, Gordon still felt a certain level of stress at the work ahead.

Unlike his bigger friend, James had a very one-dimensional and woefully inaccurate view of the situation. He really just wanted a reason to hold a party, as opposed to the ceremonious tedium of the Union-run Christmas and New Year's parties (Neither Henry nor Bear were ever party animals). For days now, James had secretly planned a "Gordon is in Charge and Fatt Hatt isn't" party, which was now ready. Using a pager he stole from a buzzed Donald, James invited all the Engines to the party. Most, expecting a moderate-if-bland union ceremony, accepted.

Surprisingly, James' decor was not too garish. The colors were bearable, albeit a tad flashy. There were only four portraits of James hung around the yards. Just about everyone reasoned that Henry, Bear, or another dull type took part in the decoration. James even hung a picture of Gordon from the rooftop siding, rather than of himself - a fact that surprised most Engines, until they realized that Harvey was involved.

Perched by the bar, Donald and Douglas gave increasingly inappropriate commentary about the Hatts, the Whiskey, and Brexit to anyone who would listen. Not too far away, Salty told equally inappropriate stories of the sea.

Near them, Bill and Ben insulted anyone who dared come near.

"Pumpkin-head!" they yelled at Billy

"Matchbox!" they called Toby

"You f***ing paranoid schizophrenic!" they screamed at Henry

But the last blow was when they went after Spencer.

"Slow little baby diseasel!" the pair shouted at the pompous A4, who promptly sent Bill flying off a buffer and into a field; no one really minded.

In a more prominent location, Gordon laid his flag. Around him were Belle, Henry, Hank, and the Flying Scotsman.

"Every now and then I just wonder," Hank said, "What's with y'all in the Irish?"

"Only Spencer is like that. We tend to be less overtly racist." Gordon said, in suddenly-noticeable RP.

"Look Gordon, an immigrant!" Thomas cried, trying to blow Gordon's 'accepting' act. Gordon's face revealed his success.

"You got a problem with foreigners?" Thomas asked, trying to provoke him.

"Uh, no. No. Not at all. No." Gordon stuttered, trying to recover his dignity. "I'm just worried. About what… Spencer might do. It would not be good."

"It's funny how not even Mallard is as arrogant as that silver grease pan." Flying Scotsman said, trying to reinforce his brother.

"Remember that one time we kicked Spencer out, Gordon?" Henry asked, continuing to steer away from social issues.

"You didn't do the family much good, you know?" Flying Scotsman replied, "he visited York every week for about a year after that."

"What are you complaining about?" Gordon responded, "you were in maintenance."

"And you visited me twice!"

"We were a bit tight on Engines here. Fatso didn't give me much leeway."

"Fair enough. At least you helped get me out of America."

Their banter, along with all other activity, was suddenly disrupted.

"Heloooooooooooo everyone! Thank you for coming. Thank you! Thank you!" James exclaimed from the rooftop siding.

"Did someone order a LARGE HAM?" Henry said, in a mix of exasperation and mild amusement.

"We are here today to celebrate Gordon, our new boss and our old coworker. We may think his colors are unpleasant, but we all know he pull the Express better. Although between us, I look much prettier doing it. Gordon may not be very refined, but he is a great friend, a fast engine, and he seems to be a good lover as well.

There's one story I want to tell you, that shows Gordon's bigness and our smallness. In the 50's, Fatso made him take the Flying Stinkper once. He was angry, and he went fast without paying attention. So when a dead parrot fell into his funnel, he didn't really notice it. On the way back, he didn't really notice when it came out at Wellsworth, and hit an army warehouse, that set off some rifles, that burned Fatty's closet. Speaking of…."

The crowd was relieved to see James finally pulled away, but wanted him back when Spencer rolled over.

"Gordon is my cousin, and sometimes I appreciate that. I appreciate having a crazy relative to remind me how good I am!" Spencer laughed, but no one else did. "The one time, he burst his safety valve in a race. That never happened to me. Shows you why Gresley wanted him gone, eh? He also doesn't have a problem with all the gays and Jews on this island, which I just do not understand. There are f***ing f**s and k***s here, and he's never tried to get them off the island. It's disgraceful, and not the way to run a true railway. And don't you forget the time he pulled a freight train. What a disgrace!"

"We cannae let 'im say that!" Donald shouted

"Nea!" Douglas shouted back, "I'm goin' ta grab 'im and shove 'im in a ditch, aye."

"Dinnae forget me!" Murdoch exclaimed, and joined them on the way up.

Spencer continued his rant. By now Gordon had nearly popped his safety valve, and resolved that he had to get up there and yank Spencer away.

"And then he drove into a ditch, the sod! Just so he could get out of pulling a sodding train. Can you believe it?! And then he gets to bring the Queen over. HIM and not ME. Such a st…"

Suddenly, Spencer lurched back violently, due to the actions of three drunken scots. He soon rolled out of sight, and darkness hid the spot where he was.

Not that anyone had time to look for him, because James soon appeared below, topped with a scarf. In a bombastic tone, he began a speech.

"Our railway has many years of history. Some characters can't be separated from it: me, Thomas, Fat Hatt. Other characters also come here, even bad ones like Spencer. We've been here for many years, and we know all things must pass. Which is why it is happily that we embrace the leaving of the old, and the coming of the new. My good friend is a little bit of both. Please welcome Gordon Gresley!"

A loud, brassy fanfare echoed from all around. Bright, multicolored lights shone on the siding where Spencer recently was. But now, it was not the silver A4 they were shining on. It was a blue A1 they all recognized.

"So you all heard it." Gordon began, "I'm not a racist. Such a shame we can't say that of everyone." No one was sure if he referred to Spencer or the US President, but they laughed anyway.

"No, I'm not a perfect engine, but I don't think anyone is. OK, maybe there's one." The limelight turned briefly to Belle, his significant other. "But I'm certainly capable of taking charge. My plan is simple - break all the records. I believe we can keep the Kipper running accident-free all year. I believe we can cut delays out of the system. I believe we can open record amounts of trackage this year. And lastly, I believe we can break the steam speed record!"

The last proclamation drew gasps, and another comment about pork from Henry.

"Together, we shall make 2015 our best year yet!" Gordon announced, before dramatically backing away.


	2. Chapter 2

To the Engines, Union Christmas parties were always a time to suspend their hatred of each other. Gordon and James would suspend their funnel-measuring contests, Thomas would cut his pranks short, and Edward would stop sighing in disappointment at the "young fools".

This time, it was more. After months of mismanagement, the engines were still celebrating the return of normality. Thus, they were much merrier, and at the same time much more nostalgic.

"Oi, Thomas!" Said Duck, "Remember that time we triple-headed the Express?"

"I do," said Thomas, "I also remember the time you kept the Tender Engines out of the Sheds."

"And we, dear Thomas," said Gordon, unwilling to take a slight, "distinctly recall you having breakfast with a station master."

"Which I'm sure is worse than you running into a ditch!"

"Or you falling down a mine!"

"It could happen to any engine!" replied Percy, defensively.

"It could certainly happen to you," retorted James.

"No, it couldn't," said Percy, "I've never gone down a mine."

"But you did go down the pier," said Hank

"That was disgraceful." said Gordon

"Despicable."

"Disgusting."

"When did you lot start to do that?" asked Belle, innocently.

"Oh, around the time they made us shunt." Henry said.

"Which Tender Engines DON'T DO." Gordon insisted

"What the hell are Tender Engines any good for?" Duck asked, dripping sarcasm

"Pulling big trains to important places, little Montague," Gordon said, matching Duck's sarcasm with his own haughtiness

Suddenly, their banter was disrupted.

"HELLO EVERYONE!" an annoyingly familiar voice said, "I'M HERE."

"Did someone order a LARGE HAM," Henry sneered.

"Will he just focking come out already?" Emily snarked.

"Watch it," Arthur responded angrily, "most of us are hardworking members of society."

"What's that nasty smell?" Gordon asked condescendingly

"We shoved him inta tha pot dispensary!" Douglas exclaimed

"And tha fertilizer plant!" Donald added

"And then we left 'im in a ditch!" Murdoch finished.

"Wouldn't be the first Gresley to visit one!" Thomas exclaimed

Their conversation was again disrupted by the large, silver ham above.

"I Didn't get to finish my story last time, so here I am. Gordon is a disgrace to the LNER, to your pathetic little mudhole, and to all of Enginekind. During WWII, he killed poor, innocent Nazis."

"I always knew Spencer was one," sniggered James.

"He went to Italy fighting for the pudgy Brit with a cigar. He must really hate animals and love Jews!"

"That's it!" cried Henry, "He's going a field."

"I'll drag his fockin arse ta tha dump if it's tha last thing I'll do!" exclaimed Douglas

"Don't you dare do it without me!" Gordon shouted.

Soon, half of Sodor's population was right behind Spencer. Murdoch was coupled up to Spencer's tender, and began to tug. Unfortunately, Spencer realized that and began pulling forward, which meant that only his Tender came away, and Spencer himself actually pulled forward - and off the rails.

Plowing forward at full speed, Spencer ran into a field, through some piles of cow s***, and out of sight.

"Where'd he focking go?" Douglas asked, buzzed and dazed.

"I don't know," Gordon said, in a startling admission of ignorance.

"I dinnae focking care!" exclaimed Donald, drunk and rowdy, "I want some focking whiskey!"

"I do Nazi that tin can!" exclaimed Charlie, using a pun that was both unfunny and offensive.

"Oh, can it!" shouted Belle, before launching some water into his cab. Billy cringed, and she was satisfied.

"What's a Nazi?" Percy asked.

"A very bad person." said James

"Even worse than the Commies," said Gordon.

"What's a Commie?" asked Percy.

"Young Hatt is a Commie, and so is Thomas," said Gordon

"Check your privilege!" cried Thomas, "I'm a democratic socialist, you imperialist scum!"

"Same shit!" Gordon exclaimed, having a general distaste for anyone left of Tony Blair. It was something about demolishing grand London termini, and serving crappy sandwiches.

Soon, the banter returned to the usual blend of nostalgia and vitriol, with Spencer stuck in the muck about five miles east.


End file.
